Death is at the Door
by Giselle Malley
Summary: Four short stories that portray how differently death knocks some doors.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own NOT Hey Arnold! But I love the football-headed boy, so I write fanfics about him and his pals!**

 **This is a little sad, or maybe too sad. Anyways, enjoy (if you like sad stuff) and review!**

 **DEATH IS AT THE DOOR SHORT STORIES**

 **Deadly to be loved**

She looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were swollen, puffed after the long hours she had been crying. She straightened her back dress and tied her silky auburn hair in a ponytail. Lila was in no mood to do a fancy hairstyle. She didn't wear any make up either. A sad sigh inadvertently escaped her mouth, making her face her reflection again. Tears were streaming from her eyes. She was crying again, this time for herself.

Lila had been in love five times, and five times it had been snatched from her hands by the cold fingers of death. Arnie had had a car accident; Lewis had died in Iraq; Johnny had been shot by his dad; Stinky had been bitten by a venomous snake while in Australia, and the late Roger broke his neck riding a bull. All of them lied cold, existed no more. _All but one._ Lila laughed as more tears rolled down her cheeks. _All but Arnold_. Lila smiled. Leaving him to Helga had been the best decision of her life; otherwise, he may be lying six feet under, killed by one of life´s jokes on her. She wiped her tears, and left the room.

"Love will knock my door again, I´m ever so certain of that." She whispered as she closed the door of her room.


	2. I will love you forever

**Disclaimer: I own NOT Hey Arnold! But I love the football-headed boy, so I write fanfics about him and his pals!**

 **This is a little sad, or maybe too sad. Anyways, enjoy (if you like sad stuff) and review!**

 **DEATH IS AT THE DOOR SHORT STORIES**

 **I will love you forever**

Sid heard a bump and went back to sleep. He knew Rhonda had a bad headache, and had gotten up to get a Tylenol. He reasoned that she had dropped the pill´s jar again. She had become very clumsy since she started her third pregnancy trimester, which really annoyed him. His once perfect wife was now a huge cow. He heard her coughing, and just assumed that she had eaten a huge chunk of chocolate, too big for her to swallow at once. In his dreams he saw the face of another woman, a curvy Peruvian lady whom he had been seeing for three months. In his dreams it was her who was sleeping next to him. He trailed his hand to touch her, but found no one instead. Instinctively, Sid opened his eyes. He was alone in bed. He turned around and reached for his phone. It was four in the morning; Rhonda had left bed at eleven.

…

"I heard she drowned on her own vomit!" A woman with a know-it-all tone of voice exclaimed.

"Really? I heard it was an aneurysm." A woman with a high pitch voice said.

"Yeah. Both." The know-it-all said, matter-of-factly.

"How come?" The high-pitched woman asked curiously.

"She had the aneurysm, and fainted. She hit her head hard on the sink and vomited. As no one helped her on time, she drowned on her own vomit." The other woman answered scornfully.

"Oh my gosh!" She exclaimed, in an ever higher voice pitch.

"My cousin, the intern on shift that night, said that if she had received help earlier, she wouldn´t have passed away." The other woman added sadly.

"Oh, dear!" She exclaimed in an almost inaudible voice. "How about the baby?"

"He died, too."

"He? You mean it was a boy?" She gasped.

"Uh-huh. His name was going to be Benjamin." The other replied.

"This is unbelievable! How about her husband?"

"You mean the piece of crap that let her die? He´s slowly being consumed by his own guilt." She replied, her words full of hate.

Sid was eavesdropping from other side of the wall from which the women were talking. He never saw their faces, so he just assumed that they were Rhonda´s working partners. He cackled, again, who was he to assume? His assumptions had led his wife and stillborn to where they were. It was his fault. Sid´s eyes swelled up with tears. He moved away from the wall and walked to his late wife´s open casket. He held her pale cold left hand. She was still wearing her wedding ring. When he bought it, just five years ago, he had had it engraved _I will love you forever_. How long had forever lasted for him?


	3. Together Forever

**Disclaimer: I own NOT Hey Arnold! But I love the football-headed boy, so I write fanfics about him and his pals!**

 **This is a little sad, or maybe too sad. Anyways, enjoy (if you like sad stuff) and review!**

 **DEATH IS AT THE DOOR SHORT STORIES**

 **Forever together**

Phil had decided to stop talking and eating. He couldn't walk, and refused to use the wheelchair anymore. He didn't have sense of time, which made him unaware of the amount of days he had been that way. The only thing he was sure about was how much it had hurt him to learn that Pookie had passed away, and that no one had let him know. He decided to part to where she was without asking for anyone's consent.

The nursing home staff members were very worried. They had tried to establish contact several times with the family of Philip and Gertrude Shortman when she had passed away. They had sent several e-mails, ignoring that Miles, Stella and Arnold Shortman were in a two-year expedition through the Amazon jungle. They had called hundreds of times, but the land line number they had belonged to an indigenous Costa Rican tribe which spoke Boruca and Spanish. They had sent a few letters, which were mostly lost in the mail for being the address too deep in the jungle. They had, at last, published the obituary in a local newspaper, but they hadn't received any news from the old couple's family.

The management office had then taken the resolution of not letting the old man know what had happened to his wife until a family member showed up, for fear that he may pass away of sadness, and so it had been done. Whenever a senile Phil asked about his wife, the personnel told him that she was sleeping, listening to the radio, sunbathing, training young kids in karate or taming wild lions. The staff members' answers became more and more creative, and Phil always cracked a laugh. It had been that way until two weeks ago, when Phil had bluntly asked a young staff member if his wife was still alive. The shocked girl couldn't answer and that had been an answer itself. Ever since the incident, Phil had closed himself to the world.

…

Arnold went to the post office in Brasilia. He had tried to keep in contact with Helga ever since he had moved to the jungle with his parents. The post service was very bad and his letters got lost quite often. He had agreed then to rent a post office box in the nearest city to the location where he was going to be. He would let Helga know in advance, so she didn't mail him to the wrong address. It had been working well for a few years, until his trip to the Amazon which had been something neither him nor his parents wanted to repeat. They were supposed to work there for two years, but things went as bad as they could, forcing them to return before time. They were ready to go back from Brazil to Costa Rica and then home, to the US.

Arnold picked a huge bunch of Helga's letters and carrying it, rode along with his parents the jeep that would take them to the airport. Their arrival was going to be a surprise.

Arnold opened the last letter Helga had sent. He had sent her a few letters from different places whenever he had been able to, just to let her know that he was fine. He figured that she would have looked for him throughout the whole Amazon Jungle if he hadn't let her know that he was alive. He expected a very angry letter from her, but instead, he found a newspaper obituary, his grandmother's name was on it. He opened several more, and they all had a copy of the same paper. Arnold put his head in his hands and started to cry. Miles took a piece of paper from the bunch Arnold had opened and read his mother's name.

…..

Phil had been able to see his son and grandson before parting. Miles had begged him to eat while Arnold had tried to cheer him up. They didn't understand, life without Pookie meant nothing to him. Death hadn't taken him, he had decided to embrace it to be reunited in infinity with she who had loved him even before he knew what loving meant.

…..

"I'm so sorry Arnold!" Helga said after the burial. She held him strongly with both arms, forgetting for once her facade, to support him during that painful moment.

"It's ok Helga. At least we were able to say goodbye to him." Arnold said while hugging her back, tears rolling down his cheeks. He put his head on her shoulder and added "It seemed to me that he wanted to go with her."

Helga softly pulled herself away from Arnold's embrace, her confused eyes asked a question.

Arnold embraced Helga again and answered "You see, he died exactly a year after she did."


	4. A pink bow, please

**Disclaimer: I own NOT Hey Arnold! But I love the football-headed boy, so I write fanfics about him and his pals!**

 **This is a little sad, or maybe too sad. Anyways, enjoy (if you like sad stuff) and review!**

 **DEATH IS AT THE DOOR SHORT STORIES**

 **A pink bow, please**

"Dad? Are you up? We need to talk." A handsome blond man talked sweetly to his ninety years old father as he softly caressed his hand to wake him up.

"Yeah, yeah. I´m up. Tell me, Joel." He said as he sat on his bed, his deathbed. The feeling of energy leaving him felt very strange to him. He had always been a very active person. However, since she his wife left him about a year ago, Arnold felt hollow and weak inside. The weight of the years felt heavy on his shoulders.

"Just let me get the others." Joel stood up, letting his father´s hand go. He managed a sad smile and went out of the room to call his siblings.

Arnold looked at his oldest son, and felt proud of him. Every time he looked at his son, he saw a better version of himself. Joel was kind, resolute, witty, considered, artistic, intelligent and adventurous. He would have been Arnold´s object of veneration if it hadn´t been for his wife, who constantly reminded him that such a thing as a perfect child didn´t exist.

"Oh, daddy!" Océane stormed into the room, and hugged her dying father.

Arnold saw his daughter´s eyes welled in tears. They were blue, ´as blue as when the noon sunrays hit the surface of the ocean, and the clearest tone of blue is perceived on the line the horizon draws´, his wife had said when he saw her for the first time; and she was right. They decided to name her Océane, ocean in French, for the beautiful color of her eyes. What neither Arnold nor his wife could predict, was that, not only the blue of her eyes, but her personality resembled the so feared and beautiful ocean itself.

Senna and Lucca, Arnold´s youngest children, were standing at the doorframe, unable to get into his dying father´s room. Senna had always been precious to her father. She was as blond as the flower she had been named after, with a bright and cheerful personality that made everyone who met her love her immediately. Senna always had a kind word and a sincere warm smile for everyone, for which seeing her sad as a withered flower, was very hard for her father.

"Come here, dear." Arnold said calling his youngest daughter. "You too, Lucca."

Lucca was born a few seconds after Senna, they were twins. He had grown tall and muscular, resembling his maternal grandfather´s physique, but with an urge and devotion to help others which resembled his paternal grandmother´s soul. He was ´a gentle giant´, in his mother´s word.

There they were, standing next to his deathbed in the order in which they had been born, his four kids, his beautiful children. Arnold had bid farewell to his in-laws and his grandchildren whom he loved deeply. He had also held a private interview with each one of his sons and daughters, but Joel had insisted in gathering them together, so Arnold could share with them his final wish. Arnold knew he had a very short time left, and parted his lips to speak.

"My beloved children, I have lived a very happy existence. I have no regrets or confessions, but a single, easy-to-please wish." His breath was cutting short.

"Lucca, open the left drawer of my dresser, there´s a white box in it. Bring it to me, please." He said as his son followed his directions. His siblings following his movements, eyes fixated on the box.

Once in his hands, Arnold opened the box and pulled out an old pink ribbon. He reached for Joel´s hand, placing the ribbon on it.

"Here, I want to be buried wearing this as a bowtie." He said, solemnly.

"Pink? Are you sure dad? Isn´t blue your favorite color?" Joel asked in confusion, for he had seen that color adorning his mother´s hair. He had never seen his father wearing anything pink.

What he ignored was that pink, and not blue, was Arnold´s favorite color.

Pink was the color of the bow he had complimented when they were toddlers, which she kept on using for the reminiscence of that sweet moment until she became twelve. It had been the color of the ink she had used to write every letter she had sent to him while he lived in the jungle with his parents. It was the color of the lipstick she was wearing when he noticed how pouty her lips were. She was wearing a short dress of that very color the time he noticed how her body had changed, tempting him in way unknown to him at the time. The bubblegum she liked to share with him when she irrupted into his bedroom through the skylight every Saturday morning to play videogames, was a light shade of pink. She had been wearing a pink bra under a white shirt the rainy day in which he realized he didn't see her like one of the boys anymore. Her toe nails were painted in a matching hue of pink with the bikini she had been wearing the second time both of their families ran into each other at the beach. She had been listening to music with pink headphones while riding the bus, as he observed her from the distance when the realization that he had fallen in love with her struck him. And it had been on a beautiful afternoon with clouds tinted in pink when he hadn´t been able to bear it anymore and confessed her his feelings. Pink had been the flowers of her bouquet the day they had gotten married. It was also the color that decorated the tip of her naked breasts, a color he never got tired of seeing. It had been the color of the cover of her first published book. And pink was the color he had seen every moment in which both reached the highest peak of pleasure together. Pink had accompanied him every day of his life, until she had passed away. Ever since that moment, blue had flooded his existence, for he, Arnold Shortman, without Helga Geraldine Pataki, felt nothing but blue.

"Joel, promise!" Senna urged her brother, seeing the pleading eyes of her father.

"I promise, dad, I promise." Joel restrained himself from crying as a smile drew in Arnold's lips.

As the last breath of life escaped from his mouth, Arnold closed his eyes and instead of the terrible black of death he had expected to see, he saw every existing shade of pink.

…

 **Well, this concludes these short stories. I really hope you enjoyed them and maybe shed a tear or two. Please review!**


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